


Gift of Sunflowers and Yellow Tulips

by Vanilla (Shinjaroni)



Series: The Meaning of the Iris [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/M, One Shot, Slow Burn-ish, as per usual, filled to the brim with personal Oikawa headcanons, my longest one-shot yet whoooo!, not really proofread so there will probably be errors, please read the first story before this one because it won't make too much sense without it, same warnings apply for the first part of this series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-05
Updated: 2016-07-05
Packaged: 2018-07-21 19:46:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7401358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shinjaroni/pseuds/Vanilla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The day he met you, he thought you were just like anyone else.  You had even reminded him of his (obnoxious) underclassman from middle school.</p><p>The month after he met you, he kept paying attention to everything you did after he realized he was wrong; you were different.</p><p>The year after he met you, he knew he was helplessly in love.</p><p>[Oikawa x Reader][Oikawa's POV for "The Meaning of the Iris"]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gift of Sunflowers and Yellow Tulips

**Author's Note:**

> This has been proofread for basic errors! It's very long, however, so I haven't really bothered editing much content except for when I was going along and writing it.
> 
> I had fun making Oikawa ignorant of art terms (canvas, easel, palette, etc.). I actually don't think this story is quite as creepy as the first one (I even think it's quite tame) ... but who knows? Maybe you'll agree/disagree with that!
> 
> \- As stated in the tags, it's a bit of a prequel and retelling. That way, there's a bit more of a backstory, I suppose?  
> \- "Ms. Oikawa" / "Mrs. Oikawa" comments you'll see me reference -> "Ms." is like "Miss", and it's generally used for a young woman who's not married (yet). "Mrs." is generally used for either an older woman or a woman who's married. I was making it a bit of a joke because BACK IN MY DAY, you'd see things where girls in school would write "Mrs. [insert surname of guy they're dating]" on their notebooks and such to reference how they would eventually marry their boyfriend. KINDA CREEPY IN A WAY, RIGHT? hohoho.  
>   
>  ***EDIT:** See Luna_60's comment below on actual information on how the Ms./Miss thing works because I'm a goober and my facts can't be trusted.  
> \- On a large campus - that is, a university's - it's hard to remember the faces and/or names of people you meet, especially if it's just in passing. The classes can be in large lecture halls where around 100 students take part (I've sat in on one with a friend since it was her class! I also got a pop quiz on that same day, haha!). That's the idea I played with and it's also the only way Oikawa could sit in on a class he didn't even technically sign up for.
> 
> If Oikawa and Miss Reader went to a small college (like the one I actually attend!), it'd have a high school-like feeling and there's pretty much no way he could sit in on the class without being noticed (around 15-30 people per class at the most). In case anyone was curious! ...Please don't stalk your love interests though!
> 
> All of that aside, I hope you enjoy reading it!

About a year ago, Tooru met this quiet, young woman who shook up his entire existence; as to why or how it all started, even he wasn't completely sure. Of course, he had a general idea as to what led up to it.

He could remember when he met her - when he met you - and the day still rings in his mind as a very special time. That day, he had wandered over to the art department of the campus. That day, he never would have thought he would end up falling for someone so terribly much.

Why, exactly, was Tooru Oikawa even in the art department on that day? The young lady he was dating at the time had asked him to pose as a model in for the figure drawing class she took. _Granted_ , he was practically kicking and screaming at the idea (in his mind. he did not kick and scream in real life!); he did not want to waste his time outside of volleyball.

Honestly, he wanted to tell her he couldn't, that he was busy. Of course, it'd be a lie; despite what many would think, he actually didn't mind taking the time and effort to lie to his girlfriend. She didn't need to have him around during every second of her life and he didn't need to be around her all the time either. Add to that how it wasn't as though she really took time out of her day to visit him when he had volleyball games to attend; he'd notice how she wasn't in the audience for the first half of the game and despite wanting to be disappointed in his girlfriend, he couldn't bring himself to be shocked or to even care much to begin with.

The simplest way to put it was if she really wanted to watch him play, she would. When he asked her (in a roundabout way) about why she wasn't there to see the first half, she simply said she was busy. If she really cared about his interests and the personality behind his face, she would ask how he was doing and not stare at him as though he were a juicy steak she could show off to her friends. Still, he would be lying if he said he didn't like the attention; he knew he was attractive to others and, at the time especially, didn't mind being placed on bit of a pedestal by the world. Pushing aside his obvious and self-understood narcissism, he just wasn't in the mood to put up with her antics or desires.

That being said, he wanted to avoid helping her out for her figure drawing class because he didn't actually care for what she wanted. It was as simple as that. When he thought about it in detail, he was actually a bit of a hypocrite in the end. Regardless, he couldn't bring himself to care. There were people who were worse than him, so was it really all that bad for him to be selfish?

  
Despite his wishes to not help her out, even he himself wasn't sure why he decided to do as she asked. When he tried to think of actual reasons as to why he caved in, it was probably because he knew it would eventually damage the relationship if he didn't at least pretend to care or at least try to pay attention to her. It was obvious (at least to himself) that this relationship was on a downhill slope to failure. He wondered if she knew their relationship was doomed to eventually fail as well. Still, truth be told, he didn't want to go through the hassle of being single so soon. If he went back to being available for a relationship, he may as well have chosen to jump into a tank filled with piranhas, and he may as well actually be a juicy steak.

If he chose to go on _without_ a girlfriend, he would probably get more (albeit, insincere) support at his volleyball competitions. Despite that, he knew people didn't care what he really thought; they just wanted him to look pretty since appearance was all that mattered to most. He couldn't help but wonder how many people would be put off if they knew just how much of a cynic he could really be. Tooru generally loved being washed over with affection and all kinds of attention. There were just times where he wasn't feeling up to deal with the repetitive insincerity, especially if he was overwhelmed by stress from other, more important problems.

Take, for example, a time where he'd actually lose in a game against an opposing school (be it middle school, high school, or even now in college). If his then-girlfriend even showed up at all (as, he's always had the habit of prioritizing volleyball over her. oops.) and was able to bear witness to his loss, it would always end up being the same song and dance. The girl was often different with each scenario but the scene almost always played out the same way: He would be drowning in frustration with himself, and she would always say the words he detested hearing, which was something along the lines of how he had done his best, and all he could do was try again later.

Oh, he hated hearing that. He wasn't exactly sure why; was it because it was just an assumption on her part? Could he have detested those repetitive and false words because everyone always said them in absolutely every situation? That may have been why. He may have just wanted to hear something that he didn't already know himself from years of experience.

He didn't want to be told he could win again if he tried to get better (after all, that just managed to bruise his already damaged ego). He probably just wanted to be told something, anything different so he could know his girlfriend actually cared. He wanted to know that she understood just how much volleyball drove his life.

Maybe if she did, he wouldn't mind being around her. If she did, maybe he wouldn't be practically waiting for his relationships with women to crash and burn.

 

His thoughts came to a halt when he arrived before the classroom he was directed towards. With a faint knock of his knuckles, he slid the door open and stepped inside (the "suave" look on his face felt plastered on as he scanned the room).

Before him was a medium-sized art room. The center was fairly empty due to the fact that it was probably generally used for stuff like this, stuff like "modeling" for art. With a charming smile in place, Tooru carried himself toward the young lady who carried the paper title of "Ms. Oikawa." Honestly, she really was lovely to look at with her petite appearance. She was one of many who took on the fashion sense similar to many young women her age (i.e., short shorts and a baggy t- shirt with her hair tied in a bun). Despite being attractive though, he'd be the first to say how she almost looked the same as any other woman who asked him out. They seemd to be following some sort of rehearsed pattern, apparently.

"Tooru! You're here!" she called out, taking notice of him as he approached her. Whirling around on her toes, she waved toward the people standing in the room before walking over and kissing him on the cheek. "This is my boyfriend, you guys! He's going to stand as our model today, okay?"

Everyone nodded in response and Tooru felt his ego achieve a bit of a boost at the sight of the embarrassed eyes staring at him with admiration. He nearly let out a chuckle but decided against it.

"Okay, guys! Let's get into position!" someone else ordered, helping with an apparent set-up of chairs.

Looking down at his girlfriend, Tooru nudged her arm gently.

"Hey, do I need to do anything?" he asked, taking on what he knew had to be an adorably confused expression. She giggled and her cheeks turned a bit red; she was cute about it, just like the other girls he'd dated.

"No, just stand in the middle where the chairs are facing, okay?" He did as told and faced her once more.

"Do I need to take my shirt off?" At his question, she laughed, shaking her head.

"Of course not, you silly boy! I don't want to show off my boyfriend's body to the whole world, do I?"

I don't know, you tell me. At least, that's what Tooru almost wanted to say when he halfheartedly thought back to how she was quick to mark, ah, jump toward him when he walked in.

That's just how women often acted, so he wasn't too surprised.

 

As Tooru did his best to find a comfortable, standing position (somehow), he admittedly could not shake off his slight feeling of discomfort. There had been a ring formation of people sitting around him and of all possible situations to happen, a young lady was placed directly before him and boy, did she have a staring problem - this was how he met you. Your eyes had a dark hue to them in a way, probably because of the shadow being cast by the dim light above.

He did his best to ignore your gaze but the hairs on the back of his neck stood up one-by-one (probably) as he felt you stare at him. You weren't wearing any particular expression (in fact, you appeared to be poker-faced) as you carried your line of vision back-and-forth between him and the sketchbook in your hands. It was lifted and kept close to your frame as though you didn't want others to see it. In fact, even though you were practically glowering at him, you never looked him in the eye; maybe that way why he felt so uncomfortable.

Once about an hour had passed, some left for their next class and others stayed to draw more. Tooru felt his muscles relax as he stretched in place. He didn't even have a class for another thirty minutes and because of his irregular college schedule, he got to sit and stay as the model (insert a sarcastic cheer). Thankfully, everyone who stayed decided it was also a good time for a break (apparently). After he finished stretching, he faced toward the ridiculously serious young woman - you - who sat in his line of sight. He was able to take in your appearance more easily without sinking in that feeling of discomfort from before.

You didn't dress like his girlfriend did; you were wearing a flower-covered skirt that reached your calves, a plain-looking blouse, and a small hair-clip sat to hold your bangs aside (he took note on how the color off-set your hair). The best way to describe you was "simple." (Even the bag by your feet, which he could only assume was yours, was simple in its own right with its butterfly-embroidered design.) As he stared, a smug grin crawled onto his face (he knew it too) and with a bubbling feeling in his gut, he couldn't catch his words before they exited his mouth: "You were staring awfully intensely, weren't you? Am I that fun to draw?" He remembered how you seemed to have flinched slightly as he spoke and how you simply closed your sketchbook in the process, not once looking up to meet his eyes.

"...Oh. Um, I'm sorry. What was that?"

He couldn't stop the frustration he felt then. Though he knew better now, he actually thought you were trying to pick a fight with him when your words first rang into his ears. That being said, he did, in fact, repeat his words. He did his best to not lace them with his cynical and irritable emotions though.

You looked up at him once, then back at your sketchbook in your lap.

"I, uh, was just sketching your pose and body outline, that's all. I didn't draw your face or anything." With that, you stood from your seat and slipped the sketchbook into your shoulder bag. With your bag's strap now fitted across your body, you quietly exited the room.

He blinked.

Well, you were _just a pleasant ball of sunshine_. He couldn't even try to put a veil over the sarcasm as it entered his mind. Somehow or another, your expressionless face reminded him all too much a certain someone he attended middle school with and honestly, that made his irritation grow.

 

When he thought back to your meeting one another, it made him laugh. He didn't have the slightest doubt that you forgot what he looked like later that week; you hadn't even looked at him for even a few seconds after he spoke to you (despite how you practically violated him with your eyes before).

* * *

As he thought long and hard about the past year, Tooru couldn't think of a time where he had spoken with you or even saw your figure wandering the area for about the next month after he modeled for your class. Truth be told, he didn't really visit his girlfriend in the art room either (that was probably why he never saw you); in fact, despite his initial worries, at that point, he was practically expecting her to dump him for being neglectful.

Surprisingly so, she did no such thing (at least, not yet).

Even more surprisingly, he actually decided to visit her later that day after he'd finished classes. (He was feeling generous.) According to the message she'd sent him, she would be in the art building after class to try and complete a project. It wasn't really out of the way (since there wasn't any practice that day and he didn't have anything to do), so he didn't mind the task of visiting her for a little while. He sent her a response, saying he'd be on his way.

Almost immediately after, she'd responded, telling him the number for the room she occupied and what floor of the building  
where it was.

As he wandered through the building, he immediately noticed how he wasn't heading to the part he went to last time. Even so, once he found the right room, he was surprised to find no one else in there.

  
Well. That was kind of a letdown, he thought.

  
Still, he needed something to do, so he decided he'd just snoop around for a bit.

Placed around the room were different stands where it looked like paintings were sitting on top (he wasn't sure what the technical terms were). Some were under sheets of some kind to cover them up. As for why, he wasn't too sure on that either.

Wandering around with a bit of a bounce in his step, Tooru decided he'd pretend to be an art critic and judge some paintings (he was bored, after all, and he didn't like sitting still for too long).

First, he wandered over to the paintings that weren't covered. He saw some paint supplies sitting by one and written atop the, uh, plastic thing paint got squeezed on, was a certain "Ms. Oikawa's" name (thankfully, it was her actual name and not one of those girly-yet-creepy "Ms. Oikawa," or even worse,"Mrs. Oikawa" labels). He tilted his head a bit and glanced at her probably-still-wet painting.

"Ehhh~ She really _can_ paint, huh?"

It wasn't as though he _didn't_ believe she _could_ , but more of how he just couldn't picture her drawing anything creative or decent. So technically speaking, he maybe-probably-kind-of believed she couldn't make art.

Still, her painting wasn't anything special in his eyes; it was pretty, sure, but he didn't feel squat by looking at it. Weren't people supposed to get emotional or something just from looking at fancy art? It was just a simple image of a lion. Well, "simple" was the farthest word that could be used to describe the painting's details. It actually felt like there was a lion in the room.

It was just a lion though. Hey, it looked cool at least!

  
Dragging himself away, he noticed the uncovered paintings weren't really, uh, paintings yet. They were all blank. That meant he'd have peek under the sheets.

Oh, no, he thought (in a monotone way). An earthquake was so strong, it just knocked down a sheet on a painting and left it exposed. (It wasn't his fault he was feeling a little annoyed for being left alone. He could've been at home or doing something better with his time if he knew he was going to be left unattended.) Waltzing around toward the front of the painting, he noticed it was a bit closer to being finished compared to his girlfriend's. This one was of some form of a scenery by the ocean. He liked this one a bit better than the lion for some reason.

Then he walked away, leaving the sheet in the floor. He wanted to look at the others. With a bit of a skip, he approached another one at random. Lifting up the sheet with one hand (his other was currently occupying his pants' pocket), he began to catch a glimpse of what lay underneath.

"Ohhhh?" His interest was piqued. He couldn't quite tell what it was through the shadow being cast by the sheet but it looked like there were flowers. With a slight jerk of his wrist, he began tearing the sheet off the painting.

  
"...Oh! Uh, _please don't touch that_!"

Craning his head in slight surprise (the sheet fluttered back over the painting since he got distracted from his task at hand), he locked eyes with a plainly-dressed young lady at the doorway. He simply stared at her; she looked somewhat familiar and he couldn't place where he may have seen her before.

  
The woman was you (of course). Since he'd only seen you once before, he, unfortunately, didn't recognize you immediately. Still, he couldn't help but grin at the memory of what caught his eye about you after you approached him in the room filled with paintings.

The quiet woman - or rather, you - stepped in the room from the doorway with a stiffened-yet-blank expression (and something about your stare irritated him upon making eye contact). Apparently, he'd been doing something he wasn't supposed to be doing. (That was a joke.)

He simply smiled, knowing he wouldn't have to do much to escape this situation. He released his grip on the sheet, pivoted slightly on his heel, and faced in your direction, smile still in place.

"Did you paint this?" he asked, playing the card of the foolishly innocent and charming, young man. He was gesturing to the painting sitting behind him under the sheet with but a slight lift of his chin and a quick, obvious glance of his eyes.

The question seemed to have shaken some form of a reaction out of you, because the moment he asked, he could've sworn he saw you flinch (when he thinks back to then, he's beyond positive you did, in fact, get startled by his question).

You directed your gaze away somewhat and gave a bit of a nod. He smirked, this time facing the painting he stood before and jerking the sheet upward without a care in the world. He wasn't sure why he did it; perhaps he'd just been getting tired of your blank stare and wanted to do something to shake you up.

  
What his eyes came in contact with was a unique image; a man was lying on the ground at some angle, surrounded by different types of colorful flowers he couldn't even begin to place (name-wise; assuming they had names). He almost looked like he'd been laid to rest. A strange grin found itself on Tooru's face and he was almost sure it (somehow) wasn't because of the sound of shock you'd made upon him removing the sheet from the piece before him.

He was, admittedly, surprised to find a painting he actually really liked. He was starting to think art was supposed to be all dry and repetitive. Last he remembered (prior to his "exploration" in this room), all art he'd seen pretty much looked the same. With that, he turned to you, finding you'd actually moved a bit closer as though to try and stop him from looking at it.

With a tilt of his head, he stared at you with confusion on his mind. Were you ashamed of what it looked like or something? Still, your expression remained blank and you then chose to stare at the floor. The irritation he'd felt before seemed to have become a bit watered down as he glanced at the art once more.

"I like it," he said, a goofy (rather than smug) grin finding itself on his face as he looked back at you. Strangely enough, his smile didn't feel quite as forced as usual. "It doesn't look boring like the other ones in the room that I've seen. It's good!"

  
You looked away from the floor and locked eyes with him. He almost froze up from your stare, and that's when he remembered how you had to have been the girl who looked at him so, uh, fiercely a month ago.

Despite that realization, his thoughts came to an immediate halt. It was then when he was pulled away from facing you, as his girlfriend had almost magically appeared in the doorway.

"Oh, hey! Sorry to make you wait, Tooru!" she called out, bouncing over to him, speaking a greeting to you as well. He shook his head with a smile in place. She looked at you. All he remembered hearing were the words, "Do you remember my boyfriend Tooru? He modeled for the class last month."

You blinked and seemed to have been thinking about the question for a few moments, glancing at him once in the process.

"Um, actually... I'm sorry, I don't think I do. A lot of girls in the class had their boyfriends model since the art department didn't - or rather - still doesn't have enough funds to hire people or even anyone to really ask to model, so I ... can't say I do."

With that, you'd given one last glance to your painting, and Tooru was almost positive it may have just been him hallucinating, but it looked like you smiled somewhat before leaving the room. You didn't seemed to have wanted to cover it back up but avoided doing so as you exited instead.

  
That's when he decided to turn and reach for the flower-y painting sitting behind him. He ignored anything being said to him as he turned the panel around and found what he'd been searching for on the back of the illustration. With a slight brush of his fingertips, he found the name etched at the bottom in pen.

"Found it~" he uttered under his breath.

With the name engraved in his mind (he brushed his fingers across the dry ink as though it would fade away if he didn't), he had to suppress the shiver that wanted to run down his spine. When he recalled the memory of your reaction to his words, he fondly pictured how you looked up from the floor, your gaze meeting his own. He knew he wasn't just imagining the red dust peppered across your cheeks and how your eyes seemed to be carrying more emotion than you showed on your face.

  
He had the weirdest desire to learn more about you, especially when you said you couldn't even remember him. He was **Tooru Oikawa** ; he knew it was conceited to think this way ... but who _didn't_ know him?

  
Ah... He kind of wanted to see that face you made again. For someone so emotionless, you sure made interesting art and unique expressions to match. What was it that made you different from other girls though?

Something about you just caught his attention and now he needed to know why.

  
* * *

Time passed and Tooru didn't really know anything past your name. Even then, he still wasn't sure why you caught his eye. As a first impression, you made him remember memories from middle school he wanted to just forget. At this point, however, he just wanted to learn more about you; what kind of person you were, what other faces you made, and what made you tick. He smirked at the thought.

You definitely were interesting to him and he still had no idea why.

 

He attended class and practice as usual. This time, when he finished, he found himself hovering towards the art department ... except this time, he began to make it a habit. He often found himself over there a couple times a week and, honestly, he didn't meet with his girlfriend even once. He wanted to see you again.

Somehow or another, he just wasn't able to find you though. With a pout on his face, he continued this pattern for the next few weeks, hoping he'd come across the interesting young artist from before.

  
One day, however, he wandered into the painting-filled room from before (or at least it looked like it). What caught his attention wasn't you (as you weren't even there), but rather the newer-looking bundle of paintings leaning against the wall.

Skipping toward the art, he followed the line-up from one side of the room to the other, finding what he was searching for near the end. With one hand still in his pocket, he picked up the painting and flipped it around, finding he had guessed correctly on which one was yours (you seemed to work with flowers in your art).

He simply chuckled, quietly voicing the written name aloud.

* * *

A few nights later, he'd been tossing and turning to try and fall asleep. He was feeling irritated and even a bit bored with his college life. All his friends and teammates from high school attended different colleges and here he was, all on his own.

He wasn't lonely necessarily. He just felt a bit ... bored with his life.

Here he was, getting older and older, and all he was doing was the same, repeating routine over and over.

  
Surprisingly enough, he still managed to fall asleep that night.

Even more surprisingly, in his dream, he could remember seeing you there, standing in an empty world. All you did was offer a smile, and a simple utter of his name.

"Tooru..." He'd barely heard you speak before but as you said his name, he could swear he heard bells ringing.

  
Then he woke up, staring at the ceiling with his blanket knocked in the floor and he had somehow ended up with his feet dangling off the side of the bed.

He grabbed his blanket, covered himself back up, and curled into a ball as he tried to smooth out his heavy breathing.

  
With a whiny groan, he rolled around on his bed in frustration. Once he tired himself out, he simply let out a huff before pouting himself to sleep.

* * *

Needless to say, he continued the pattern of visiting the art department after practice to no avail. For whatever reason, he could never figure out your schedule. He wasn't sure what you did on campus.

  
That is, until he wandered outside just a bit late from practice one fateful day. It was a day where he'd decided to wander to the art department, as per usual. He was walking outside on a particularly windy day when that special moment happened:

A leaf flew up and its stem stabbed him in the eye, almost as though it'd been aiming for it.

"OUCH!" was all he could cry in response.

With an annoyed grunt of pain, he stopped in place and immediately shoved a hand up to his injured eye. Though his eye remained watery, when the pain began to subside, he realized he was facing one of the campus' many flower patches.

He should've known better from your art but it never occurred to him that you'd be by flowers on campus. You were sitting in the grass, a notebook (though if it was you, it was probably a sketchbook) in your lap. You were looking up, apparently laughing at his pitiful dance of agony.

Maybe it was the wind, or maybe it was the scenery.

Regardless, when he saw you, his voice caught in his throat. As the wind lightly tugged at your hair and your laugh kept repeating in his ears, he somehow forgot how to talk.

In simpler terms, he felt a bit like a fool.

  
He wasn't sure when he became a coward but at your laughter, he tugged his jersey over his head and walked away. His heart was hammering in his chest but the only thing he felt was absolute confusion.

What was even going on??? What was wrong with him?!

  
(When he looked back out of pure curiosity, he'd found you'd forgotten about him and moved to your personal world once again. It made him feel a bit at a loss to imagine how you didn't seem to remember him.)

* * *

Later that week, Tooru had received a message from his girlfriend, the person he, admittedly, forgot.

He knew he should have felt guilty but he really couldn't.

"I want to talk." That was all the message said. All the memories of why he didn't like dating suddenly echoed in his  
head.

He wanted to laugh. He just knew this was going to happen sooner or later.

  
He also couldn't be too surprised when she said she wanted to break up and he got slapped after their "talk."

  
"Tooru, we've been dating for months and we've barely been with each other. I think ... we should just break up."

Perhaps he shouldn't have been so quick to agree with the idea?

"Oh, all right. I'll see you around!"

"You aren't even going to try and fix this?!"

All he did was grin sheepishly.

"...No?"

The harsh sound of skin making heavy contact with more skin echoed in the room.

Maybe he'd gotten what he'd deserved? The truth was, he was basically just expecting the relationship to end.The truth to that was how he didn't really care.

  
All he could think about was how he actually kind of missed that overwhelming feeling of confusing foolishness after he'd noticed you laughing at him. A shiver ran down his spine at the thought.

Was he a _masochist_?

 

Really, the only thing he understood was how he wanted to see you again. He didn't even understand that though.

How was he supposed to get closer to you?

* * *

This was weird. It was absolutely weird and he knew it.

Here he was, standing in the hallway of the art department when he should be in class.

  
He really wasn't one to skip class. He really wasn't!

Still, he felt like he needed his fix; that weird feeling of being a blubbering fool was something he just had to have again and he couldn't comprehend why he wanted it.

As he swallowed the excess saliva he'd built up (probably out of being nervous), he let out a deep breath he didn't realize he'd been holding.

Of course, there's always an obstacle to try and make things more difficult.

That obstacle happened to be something he completely overlooked.

  
"Hey, isn't that your ex?" a voice said. Tooru's ears perked up and he knew what that meant right off the bat. He screwed up royally. His ex-girlfriend was in the art department too, wasn't she? This was a part of his plan he'd forgotten about carelessly. In his last couple of months of "dating" her, he'd forgotten they were even together.

He was too focused with, uh, being distracted (there was really no good way to word it).

"...Tooru? What are you doing here?"

Despite how he really wanted to let out a groan at not thinking ahead, he turned with a grin. With his smile in place, he'd faced a voice he used to hear more often until recently. (Well, not that much more often but still.)

"One of the art professors wanted to talk to me about posing again," he said, the lie rolling right off his tongue as though it were anything but. "It was good seeing you though."

With that, he walked away while waving her off. This wasn't really the best spot to be standing, was it? He could feel eyes on his back as a sigh faintly reached his ears.

"You think he stopped by to try and talk to you?"

"...I dunno."

He just kept walking.

  
Without a real idea on where you'd be, he simply wandered the halls, as standing in place didn't seem to be the best idea in the long run. Glancing here and there, he noticed someone standing in the hall with a notebook in their hands; they seemed to be doing homework while standing up? Either way, they seemed lost in thought.

Thinking for a moment, Tooru reached into his bag and grabbed a random piece of paper before approaching the individual.

"Hey, can I ask you something?" Tooru called out, waving with his cheerful disposition carrying him. The person looked up, a faint lift of their eyebrow in response to his question.

"...What is it?" they replied in a blunt manner (the tone reminded Tooru of his bestest bestie from high school and he wanted to laugh), looking up from their work at hand.

"I was wondering if you'd know where someone was at! I can't remember what class she was in and I was asked to give something to her~" With a ditzy giggle, Tooru lightly bonked his fist against his forehead as he gestured to the paper in his other hand. He said your name (he felt giddy while doing so) all while acting as though he wasn't sure he got the right name, then asked where you could have been. "I might be confusing her name with someone else's though! Hahaha!"

With a slight noise to show they'd been contemplating on a good answer, Tooru was told only one thing:"That name sounds familiar. I'm not sure where she'd be though. The classrooms are just on this floor and the second floor, so you could just look around? The third floor is just used for holding art tools and other materials."

  
Offering a wave and a word of thanks, Tooru wandered down the hall once more, stuffing the paper back in his bag once he turned a corner. The answer didn't really help ... but at least he knew to probably not check the third floor. When he paused to consider it, he never went to the third floor, so that actually helped a bit more than he thought it would.

He smiled, nodding his head as he more-or-less skipped down the hall.

It was a good thing he chose to talk to someone who didn't look like they'd blather about him; it'd be bad if he approached someone who looked like they couldn't keep their mouth shut! :'D

 

He eventually noticed you sitting in a smaller class on the second floor as he continued walking past various classrooms. The professor was droning about something art-related and Tooru was doing his best to ignore how his heart seemed to have bounced. Rather than slow down or stop to take in your appearance, Tooru simply carried himself until he was out of sight from the doorway. Good thing the professor seemed to teach with the door open or he'd be at this for a long time! with a  
glance upward, he took note of the class' room number. Slipping his phone out of his pocket, he also took note of the time. He nodded to no one in particular and thanked the fact that the second floor was less busy than the first.

With a satisfied smirk in place, Tooru chose to head to his next class.

  
This habit and pattern continued until he'd finally memorized your schedule. It was a lot of work because on some days, he waited in the language department; on others, he checked out the mathematics, then science departments. He didn't want his grades to drop, so he made the effort of memorizing your schedule more of a weekly endeavor rather than daily. All in all, so long as he pretended to be lost and he changed up his reasons for asking around for you (i.e., delivering something for a professor, you'd forgotten something important in class and he was trying to give it back, etc.), he managed to put your schedule together within a couple of months. Was it weird? There were people who had weirder hobbies than him, so he didn't really think so.

The only thing that was actually weird to him was how you showed up in his dreams again that night. (Nothing inappropriate happened, of course! He didn't know whether to be glad or disappointed of that fact.)

  
Still, even though it was a bit weird, he didn't mind it; in fact, he almost welcomed it.

  
He couldn't mask his disappointment as he stared at his phone's calendar when he woke up the next morning. There was only a month of the semester left until summer classes started (which meant his latest relationship lasted for almost two semesters! Was that a new record for college?). He only had a month to try and approach you. It made him frown when he thought of various scenarios and how they'd play out.

No matter what he put together, if he approached you out in the open as though you'd been close friends, you'd probably brush him off. He would look insincere and you'd end up ignoring him (of course, Tooru knew better than thinking you would ignore him _nooowwww_ ).

He needed to think of an idea or something.

* * *

With his lunch in his lap, Tooru went about eating while staring at the schedule he'd written down (it was yours, of course). Assuming he had all the classes written down correctly, you were apparently on campus from 8 AM until about 3 PM or so. You took one language class, one science class, the lab part of that science class, and three art-related classes. That, along with how your paintings looked, made him reach the conclusion that you were aiming for an art-related major of some kind. If he really needed to find confirmation, he could just pull up the checklist on the university's website anyway.

He wasn't that desperate though. It'd be better to just try and talk to you, he decided.

 

Despite how he had decided to approach you come hail or high water, he still wasn't sure how to do so. Add to that how he kept running through the thought that the semester was reaching its end. He didn't take summer classes this year and he didn't know if you took them or not!

That's when it hit him. With his fist landing in his open palm, he had a thought. He could just take a class with you.

...Wait. That wouldn't work. (His head drooped.) Not only did he not know what classes you had already taken, he couldn't take art classes; they weren't in his major. While Tooru was a little bit undecided on his major, he knew he wanted to do something in sports. Whether it was to become a coach or even a physical therapist, he wasn't too sure. Still, he knew it definitely wasn't an artist. Even pretending to change his major to art would throw him in a whole, other ball field.

Plus, he couldn't exactly afford to take classes he didn't need. He wanted to know more about you but he didn't want to go broke in the process! Even with a sports scholarship, it didn't cover absolutely ever nook-and-cranny of his college life!

  
Oh. Then there's the obvious fact that he'd already made his fall semester's schedule a month ago. Well then [insert Tooru huffing a bit like a child]!

He groaned and slouched in his seat, his lunch long forgotten.

  
Well...  
When the next semester would roll around, he would have a little over an hour before practice, so maybe he could just use it to try and talk to you then? That'd all depend on if you still attended this school and if he could even find you.

The ideas he'd had prior to today seemed to be washing down the drain. All he wanted was to not be bored in college!  That, apparently, was too much to ask for at the moment.

* * *

Whether it was from his unyielding negativity or the extra studying he had to do for semester finals, Tooru could feel himself becoming more and more exhausted and tired of his school life already. When he first met you, he could remember that feeling of excitement clearly.

When he grasped onto that feeling, he actually felt eager and ready to face the future more than before.

Now, here he was, watching the days click by and he somehow lost the nerve to approach you each time your frame entered his vision. He could actually feel his mouth close up as though he forgot how to speak.

How was he even supposed to approach you when he didn't even know what to say???

  
At that, he wasn't even surprised the semester came to an end before he could even say anything.

Ahhhhh.

When did _Tooru Oikawa_ become such a spineless, little boy? Even he wasn't so sure.

His title as "Grand King" from high school didn't fit him when he acted this way. That was the only thing he was sure of.

  
Before he'd realized it, summer actually approached and he could only absorb his own disappointment.

* * *

Tooru's summer was ... all but interesting. If he was being honest.

He was in college, so that meant it was a time to fool around, right? Well, that was kind of wrong ... at least in his case. Why?

Instead of choosing to fool around like many young men in college, he just ... went to practice, contacted his friends from high school, and did, well, nothing.

Yes, exactly as he had thought, he didn't see you or, honestly, anything that happened to catch his interest. The semester ended before he had realized it and much to his disappointment, he could never work up the nerve to approach you.

He'd come this far, so why couldn't he just try and pull out the "natural" scenario of running into you in a cafeteria? Or even better, just "accidentally" bump into you in the hallway? Your, uh, anything-you-happened-to-be-carrying would dive into the floor and he would be there to pick it up, brushing your hands against one another in the process! That would definitely get some type of expression out of you. At least, that's what he'd like to believe.

Despite his wishes, those few months of being separated from the campus were ... almost as boring as the repetitive college life had been itself.

And that just sucked.

Even though his eyes roamed the campus and occasionally the art department, he never bumped into you. Even though he didn't have summer classes, he still roamed around like a cat hoping to find a meal.

  
He wasn't sure he liked this feeling. He wasn't even sure if it was better or worse than the boredom he felt during his busy semester.

What would be the best way to even describe how he felt?

He didn't really want to drown in even more negativity, so he just stopped his thoughts there. All he knew was that he wanted the fall semester to arrive already.

* * *

Though he could consider it a blessing in disguise, summer ended for Tooru soon enough.

Of course, things were never that simple.

  
For about a week, he continued practically the same routine as his summer life (sans contacting high school friends).

His own schedule was lighter than before and he wasn't sure it was the best idea. For him, it really just meant that he got to become more bored and frustrated with himself.

He had a little more than an hour before practice to waste, and he even spent it by showing up in the gym earlier than everyone else every now and again. He did this on-and-off for about two weeks. Some of his teammates would arrive and ask him how he had so much time and dedication to the sport.

He admitted how he loved playing volleyball and how he enjoyed the practice (truthfully, he actually needed it so he wouldn't get rusty). There was even a time where he probably mentioned how he just had a bit of free time before practice actually started, so he thought he'd just add onto his it.

"You're pretty dedicated, Oikawa!" he could remember hearing. He wanted to laugh. Wasn't that the truth?

  
At this point, Tooru was more-or-less accepting the fact that he probably wouldn't see you again.

He'd have to go back to his same old schedule. _Go to class, head to practice, leave and go back home_.

He just uttered a sigh of disappointment at the idea.

* * *

Even with his negativity, even with his acceptance, Tooru couldn't believe what had happened. After leaving his lecture hall to learn about leadership, he'd found everything again.

He had to be going crazy, he thought. It'd been so long since he'd seen you, his eyes may have been remembering you wrong.

Regardless, he saw your figure quietly move through the hall and he noticed how you wore a long, modest skirt. You didn't look flashy and you definitely didn't stand out.

Even so, his eyes still followed you as you stepped past him. They followed you almost as though you'd vanish if he didn't watch every move you made.

As though they chose to move on their own accord, Tooru's feet carried him toward you. He trailed after every step you took and soon enough, you entered the room of a fairly large lecture hall - one that seemed to be almost like a theater of some kind.

All he did next was slide his phone out of his pocket while glancing toward the class schedule stuck beside the door. It'd be starting within ten minutes and with a small look offered to his phone's clock, he stepped into the room. Having an hour to spare, he took a seat toward the back of the hall, a spot somewhat near the door.

He watched with a smug grin on his face as you placed yourself before the professor's desk toward the front of the room. His heart was hammering in his chest and he was loving it.

* * *

Somehow or another, just a glance to you was enough to relieve Tooru of his boredom. He'd be lying if he said he enjoyed that class; after all, he spent the entire time staring at you even when people filled the room.

He'd also be lying if he said he didn't go in there again for the next few days until the week ended. He found that you seemed to enjoy sitting in the same place before the professor's desk. And so, after that week, he did something a bit differently.

This time, he sat a bit closer. If the room were divided up, there would then be three, long sections which consist of many rows of seats. They were almost like bleachers, actually. This time around, rather than sitting on the leftmost area beside the door, the room's exit, he chose to put himself in the middle row of the middle section. He got a clearer view of you, and it was a bit more of an angle compared to before.

It was a bit different from actually approaching you to speak; somehow, this was just easier and more relaxing for him. Still, he knew he wanted to talk with you sooner or later. He really, _really_ wanted to see your funny expressions.

  
Even though he chose to sit in the middle of the room, it just wasn't enough. That's why he couldn't hold himself back.

The week after, he sat in the row and placed himself directly behind you. Frankly, he was surprised with himself. Maybe all the time he spent/wasted during the summer made him realize this was the only way to alleviate his boredom? He wasn't too sure. Still, if he leaned forward in his seat just a bit, he could almost swear his nose picked up some sweet, but subtle scent coming from you. It couldn't have been some perfume or cologne, right? It was too faint.

All he could do was grin as he ignored the professor's lecture and the people who answered his questions. This was how things should be, after all! He felt pretty satisfied with his decision to "take part" in this class.

It was probably the most interesting point in his life (after volleyball) ... until he heard the first thing to escape he professor's lips after class was in session a few days later. He had a small hat in his hand and there were pieces of paper inside of it.

"I'm going to divide you up into groups."

He couldn't even try to hide the excited smile as it crept onto his features.

  
When he received his piece of paper, Tooru didn't even bother giving it a glance. Instead, he leaned forward and took note of the paper in your own fingers. Written on it was the number "4," and all he did then was hop from his seat and move to the front of the room (with his bag too, of course!) after crossing through the crowd of people. He could almost feel himself skipping to the area near the door as he approached the people still gathered around the area.

Gripping his folded piece of paper, he waved that hand high in the air and spoke in a loud enough volume for others to  
hear:  "Heyyyyy! The 'fours' are gathering over here!"

With that, he placed himself into an empty spot in the leftmost row and a few people gathered around him soon enough. ("Was your number a '4'?" is what he kept hearing. For some reason, it was like people needed confirmation again!) If someone showed enough confidence, they could get whatever they wanted, huh? They could even get people to believe that someone was actually taking this class! He felt like an evil genius from a cartoon. Except, well, an evil genius who wouldn't have their plans foiled!

All joking aside, he saw you carry your bag over to where he sat with some nameless, faceless people he knew nothing about (not that he cared much). He smiled, watching as you took a seat quietly, not once asking if this was the right group. He didn't know why he appreciated that so much. After waiting a few more minutes, the professor handed out the assignments and Tooru decided to proceed with talking.

For whatever reason, he could feel his voice wanting to tremble as he spoke. He'd achieved a newfound nervousness he didn't even think he could have.

"We should do introductions! So, my name is Tooru Oikawa! I haven't really decided on my major yet but I'm on the guy's volleyball team! Come by and watch us some time!" He went with being chipper because honestly, he wasn't sure what else to do. He even lied about being unsure about his major; to him, it was probably the smartest move he could make. Before, he thought he was mentally prepared for looking at you and speaking again. Now, he was just a mess.

Things were probably worse for him because he understood right away that you still didn't know who he was. Did he really leave _that little_ of an impression on you???

He heard the other people in the group introduce themselves but his eyes were trained on you. You seemed to be staring past him, ignoring the others as well. It ... took him a moment but he soon realized you were actually just thinking about something else. ...Probably.

"And what's your name? What major are you studying for?" he said after he noticed everyone else finished their introductions.

  
He thought your introduction was simple, straightforward, and somehow nice to listen to. He was about to get cheesy though, and Tooru Oikawa was not very cheesy.

Yeah. He was definitely going to enjoy this class.

* * *

"There's a game on Saturday. You guys should come by and check us out!" were the first words out of Tooru's mouth the next day of class. He then mentioned the college they'd be playing against along with the time it took place. Of course, he wasn't really listening to his own words; it was almost as though he were on autopilot! Instead, he simply eyeballed you while feigning interest in one of other girls in the group.

"We'll be there!" responded one of the girls he couldn't quite remember the name of (If he remembered it correctly, it started with an "A." ...Probably.). Instead of giving her an actual sign of appreciation (other than smiling at her), he looked straight ahead at you, practically sitting on the edge of his seat.

"Are you going to come see us play?" he said, almost surprised at how easily he was warming up to you. He'd be lying if he said he didn't still feel nervous though.

At that, however, you said nothing. Then you blinked and your expression seemed to faintly turn into one of surprise.

"Ah- Uh, what was that?"

He couldn't help but smile again. Once again, it felt more natural than before.

"Are you going to see my game on Saturday? I'd love for you to come!" He was beaming. He knew it too.

"If ... I have time, I'll see if I can make it." That's all you said.

  
Still, it was definite progress compared to before! This time, he definitely wouldn't let you forget his name or face.

The name "Tooru Oikawa" was quite memorable, after all.

* * *

Saturday rolled around soon enough and as Tooru stretched his body in the locker room, he couldn't contain his excitement. More than anything, he wanted you to see him play, to remember him.

  
He almost felt like he'd burst with joy when his team stepped out onto the gym floor. Almost like a magnet, his eyes trailed toward the audience and landed on everything he wanted to see ... which was just you, of course.

  
Once the game began, he didn't exactly have the time or focus to look up to the audience. Instead, all he was focused on was showing you his best efforts (a lame was to word it would be how he wanted you to see his "cool side.").

He wanted you to engrave this inevitable victory into your mind no matter what it took.

  
By the time the game ended, he was able to look up to the bleachers, only to find you standing and leaving.

* * *

"NO CLASS FOR TODAY. I don't care where you go but you can't stay here." were the words written on a piece of paper, which was hanging to the class' door.

  
The first thing Tooru did the next time class was in session was hurry to the lecture hall before anyone else. That was when he found the aforementioned piece of paper placed on the door.

He stepped away and wandered over to a table at the end of the hall. Slipping his phone out of his pocket, an idea suddenly hit him.

Popping up his coach's number (which was meant for "emergencies" but hey, he wasn't always a stickler for rules), he started typing a message.

_"I'm bringing my girlfriend to practice today! She needs to draw something for her art class!"_

It wasn't a request. Or the absolute **truth** , really.

Still, with a giddy attitude in place, Tooru found himself staring down the hall to the place where he expected you to go. Of course, you were already there. You seemed to be reading the paper on the door and, almost nervously, looked back-and-forth as though you were trying to find someone.

He'd already been walking (almost skipping) toward you at a quickened pace, his "plan" already in motion.

Almost as fast as he could blink, he stood behind you, peeled the paper off the door, and pretended to be reading it for the first time.

"Ohhh? I guess I need to head straight to practice then." His acting was so believable, it even fooled himself! He looked toward you and away from the paper he'd been holding. A smile (almost a smirk, actually) even found itself on his face as he stared at you. "Hey, hey, I saw you at our game on Saturday! Did you come to cheer us on?"

You nodded, almost as though you were hesitating.

The smile-smirk seemed to be getting bigger and when he couldn't contain it anymore, he started ruffling your hair. He didn't care about your height in the slightest; all he wanted was to get a reaction out of you.

"I... I'm not a dog...!"

And get a reaction, he did.

He could feel a tingling feeling on the back of his neck at your little "outburst." Stepping past you, he stuck the piece of paper back onto the door, not once looking back.

Honestly, he just didn't want you to see the crooked grin on his face.

"Oh, I know that," he stated quietly, not even trying to mask his voice in cheerfulness. The tone he used reminded him somewhat of his high school days in volleyball. It was a tone he'd start to slip into only whenever he wasn't in the mood for jokes anymore. The world seemed to be moving in slow motion after his response, and he couldn't quite understand why he said what he said. Of course you weren't a dog. Dogs were cute, sure, but you didn't remind him of a dog in the slightest. Did you really remind him of anything in particular, actually? He just liked the entertainment he got out of talking with you. That's all he knew.

Silence surrounded both himself and you. He decided enough was enough and it was time to take another step forward.

"Oh, I have an idea!"

That was when he looked straight at you.

"Um... Yes, what is it?" you questioned. You almost seemed like you flinched at his words. ...Did you?

"You can come to watch me practice with my team!"

"I can w... Wait, what?"

Grasping your hand, he dragged you over to the gym where he practiced just about every single day.

He could be forceful when he needed to be! Even he thought it was quite convincing.

 

"Oikawa, what's she doing here?"

"Are people even allowed to come watch us practice? Won't the coach get mad?"

He didn't want to let it slip that he'd already taken care of that. :P

  
Instead, Tooru raised his hands in defense. "Guys, it's okay! She's an artist and," he said. "As an artist, she needed, uh, what was the word? Referees! Wait, no, that's not it..."

He couldn't believe he didn't know any art words past "paint" and "sketchbook." Of course, he was using that to his advantage. If he was going to be dumb, he was going to be cute about it.

"Um... References?" One of the guys piped in and stated.

"Yeah, references! Anyway, she asked me for help and I couldn't turn down such a sweet lady who needed help!"

Okay, _so he lied again_. Somehow or another, he didn't think you'd pipe in and correct him though. He was right once again.

  
When Oikawa says stuff like that, I really want to wring his neck." He could hear the tired tone in his teammate's voice.

"Yeah," one of the others responded, nodding his head. Okay, make that teammates' voices.

"You guys! That's mean! Don't you know that you're all the paper snowflakes and I'm the special glue that holds us together?!"

...

"Oikawa, that makes absolutely _no_ sense."

 

After their early practice started (there weren't too many people since practice hadn't -technically- started yet!), Tooru took note of how you actually pulled out your sketchbook and began drawing. You were nestled on the floor and leaning against the wall near the net. Well, close enough to see the players. You weren't close enough to get hit by someone!

  
He watched as your face seemed to tighten as you stared at your lap. You almost looked angry to him. Then he laughed and you looked up.

Wuh-oh. _Busted!_

"You were making a funny face just now, you know?"

At that, your face seemed to have dropped in shock and he laughed again. He was definitely getting used to the expressions you made and he was seriously enjoying that.

"Don't fall in love with me when you watch me serve!"

You sputtered and he didn't even try to hide how much fun he was having with you here.

He continued acting like a fool to get your attention when it wasn't his turn to run the drills. Your hidden expressions were utterly priceless! (He even made sure to tell you that.)

  
When practice was ending, he offered to walk with you to wherever you needed to go (whether it was a dorm or a vehicle for you to drive him; he didn't know and it's how he'd learn!) after he finished changing. ("It's getting dark and I can't let you wander by yourself!" was all he said.)

Changing clothes at his own, leisure pace, Tooru thought back to the day. He was proud of his progress, that's for sure.

Exiting the locker room, he wandered over to a nearby vending machine and got a bottled water. When he walked back into the gym, it was empty except for you, who was now leaning against the wall. You seemed to have fallen asleep. He felt somewhat frustrated because that wasn't a safe idea.

Instead of staying frustrated though, he plopped down beside you and noticed how your bag was by your feet and it was open.

It was time for Tooru Oikawa's Snooping Event! Tugging at your bag, he immediately found what he wanted to see: your spiral-bound sketchbook. With his water bottle now beside him, he began flipping through the pages.

He landed on a lot of simple sketches but he smiled down at all of them.

Shock found its place in his reactions when he turned the page and found ... him. He was jumping, the way he did when he served the ball. There were even flowers at his feet.

Was that how you saw him?? He didn't know if the flowers had any special meaning but ... nonetheless, he knew he was happy. His heartbeat felt like it was reaching his ears and he couldn't even try to hide his mood. He turned the page once again and found actual sketches of the volleyball team. They weren't super detailed but he could make out the outlines of the uniform and positions they were in.

Covering his mouth, he did his best to conceal his laughter. You were just so earnest, weren't you?

  
And so, he placed your sketchbook back into you bag. Of course, things wouldn't just end there! He reached for the front pockets, patting them down. Soon enough, he felt a cell phone. It was cute and simple ... but not the same model he used.

Turning the screen on, he glanced up at you once, then back to the phone. After poking around through your contacts and messages, he came to the conclusion that you didn't have many friends and you definitely weren't seeing anyone. He made sure he didn't leave a trace on your phone (closing out the visited apps, of course!) and slid it back into its original pocket.

After closing up the bag (and pretending he didn't just dig through it), he took the water he'd recently bought and bumped the bottle against your face. It apparently hadn't lost its coldness because you flinched once more and all he could do was let out the laugh he'd been trying to hold back.

* * *

At the sight of people not gathering in their respective places for the group assignment, Tooru could only assume the work was done and over. He wandered into the room and his eyes landed right on you. You'd apparently been staring at the door because the moment he walked in, your eyes met his. As if by reflex, he waved and smiled in a silly way; it was almost as though he couldn't stop himself. (You didn't seem to know he was waving at you, so you pointed at yourself, probably confused.)

He also couldn't stop himself from tugging at his face to contort it in a strange, childish way. When he gestured toward you, you had a slow response of surprise as you gaped at him.

Though he didn't know why he did what he did, he walked up the center section of the seats and to the very back. For whatever reason, he didn't mind not sitting right behind you for now. He'd gotten his fill and didn't mind watching you from a distance.

  
Despite that, he definitely couldn't stop his body from chasing after you when class ended.

When he saw you in the hall, he kept running, calling out your name, and waving like a fool. He just ... didn't care what anyone else thought. You turned around soon enough (his actually thought you couldn't hear him!) and the words spilled from his mouth before he even gave them much thought:

_"Do you want to come watch our practice again?"_

 

Somehow or another, you agreed and followed him to the gym. He was ecstatic to have you beside him as he pushed through practice. Everything carried on with few interruptions and once it was over, Tooru jogged over to you.

"I'm gonna get changed, okay? I'll be right back, so don't leave!" he said, pointing toward you and walking out of the gym.

You nodded and smiled in response.

He took his time changing clothes once more and when he stepped back into the gym's doorway, it looked like you'd been speaking with some of his teammates. He frowned a bit at the idea.

With his smile plastered back on, he called out to you and you immediately followed after him.

He really didn't like the idea of you talking with his teammates. Without giving it much consideration, he grabbed your hand after you stepped outside the gym with him.

Staring downward, he brushed his thumb across your soft fingers. He liked how your hand felt in his. It was ... a strange, new feeling. Most likely. Lifting his eyes upward, Tooru stared into yours.

"Your fingers are pretty, you know." He wasn't ... as _suave_ as he usually was. You simply blinked in response.

"Sorry, Tooru... I, um... What did you say again?" you asked, staring back at him. He didn't really mind.

"I said, 'Your fingers are pretty, you know.' Is it because you have the hands of someone who works with art all the time?" he asked, his question seeming to be more rhetorical than anything else. He started rambling in a way he couldn't control. "I look at my own hands constantly, almost out of habit, and they're often covered in either bandages or calluses from hitting the volleyball too hard. I try to take care of them but they never look as nice as yours do."

He didn't know what he was even going on about.

"...I put lotion on my hands everyday. I ... get calluses too from whenever I draw. Sometimes, I, uh, hold a pencil too hard to keep my hand steady," you said.

He nodded, his gaze tilting downward.

"Your art is just as lovely as your hands though," he said, removing his thumb and lacing his fingers against your own one-by-one.

"W-Wait, my art-" He shook his head, cutting you off.

"When you waited for me to change after practice the other day. I, uh, saw your sketchbook sticking out of your bag and took a look!" The grin on his face was one he couldn't recall ever making before now. "There was a, um, picture of me, wasn't there?" He decided to leave out the tidbit of him searching through your phone.

  
You looked downward, almost as though you were scared to hear what he said next. Instead of voicing his thoughts, he reached over and tucked a stray hair behind your ear.

"This way, I can get a better look at your face," Tooru stated, smiling more honestly than he thought possible for himself. "I enjoy looking at you, to be honest."

If anything he said could be taken as truth, that statement certainly could. Rather than responding like he thought you would, you simply uttered two words of thanks.

He couldn't take it; your honest personality, your unique expressions, everything was on his mind.

And so, he leaned toward you, his lips brushing against your cheek.

When he saw your look of shock and your hand slap against your own cheek, Tooru could only laugh with joy being emitted from his features.

"...The expressions you make are just so funny," he said, stifling his laughter.

  
Your nose and eyebrows scrunched up somewhat, probably from you being confused.

"Am I really making funny faces...?" was all you asked.

"Yeah, you do. They remind me of a cute underclassman I used to have in middle school! He made funny faces just like you." You tilted your head slightly. He felt like an idiot for not realizing until then. "Of course," he began quietly, pushing your hand up against his chest. He wanted you to feel his erratic heartbeats. "He didn't make me feel like this."

You sputtered and jerked your hand away. Instead of laughing again, all Tooru said was your name. Turning your head, you glanced at him.

"...Yes?"

  
He knew what he wanted now. Honestly, he approached you because he was bored of his repetitive college life. Truthfully, he had absolutely no idea when that train of thought derailed.

Even though he was feeling nervous and anxious and his legs felt like they were going to collapse under his weight, you looked almost radiant to him and he just couldn't take it anymore; if he didn't say something, he knew he'd explode from all of this.

"I want you to be my girlfriend."

* * *

Unsurprisingly enough, Tooru's relationship with you was just as strong as when it started. Even after all these months had passed by, he was still proud of his decision.

On one of the games where his team lost, you approached him and quietly sat by his side.

"Aren't you going to say something?" he asked, accidentally adding more bark into his tone than he would've liked.

You flinched somewhat and with hesitation, you looked down, then back toward him.

"Well... I just thought anything I said might not help, so ... I just thought I'd, um, stay here beside you instead." Even with his frustration, his heart managed to bounce. It wasn't exactly what he needed to hear but it was certainly different from the "at least you did you best"s he'd gotten used to.

  
Whenever he achieved victory with his team, you'd show up with a boxed lunch in hand, smiling his way. For once, he felt bad about not spending time with his girlfriend as much as he could. When he almost timidly (but not _too_ timidly since he was Tooru Oikawa) apologized for that, your laugh echoed in his ears.

"You love volleyball though, right?" He threw his body at you in public and just didn't care what the world thought of it all.

 

Whether it was him taking the loss with his team or climbing the ladder to victory, he knew he could look up to you in the bleachers to support him all the way.

Though it wasn't the best timing, right after the team won another game, he approached you with a bouquet in his hands. It was filled with sunflowers, yellow tulips, and that flower you recently told him about - the iris. He didn't know anything about flowers or arranging them but that didn't matter. You would get the gist of what he meant, he thought.

When you looked up in surprise, he knew you understood what the gift meant.

"See? Even I can do research on flowers to know what they mean!"

  
And when you laughed as the smile bloomed on your face, Tooru knew **that** was his favorite memory with you.

**Author's Note:**

> HAPPY ENDING! Yay!
> 
> do you really know how much work it was to put myself in this boy's shoes to write this.  
> I kept thinking, "Would a stalker do this though? Wait, no, then they'd probably get caught." I was super serious with thinking about how Oikawa would act and it was just a very weird experience. All in all, I think it's actually pretty tame. It wasn't meant to be an outright "yandere story," but more of a story that could reflect Oikawa's "true colors." I guess??? It's filled with headcanons I imagine for him, as always.
> 
> To put it simply, the whole concept that created this POV was basically, "if Oikawa stalked his love interest, he'd try and tell himself it's not weird at all. There are people who do worse things in life, so is he really in the wrong??"  
> Or something like that!
> 
> Now for the fun part! That issssss-  
> The stuff I used for inspiration for this story! You can also include the headcanons I threw in there because I don't feel like listing them all right now (they all mainly revolve around his way of thinking, anyway).
> 
> Artsy explanation (yes, even this was thought about!):  
> * Oikawa's then-girlfriend (the nameless one, of course!) painted a lion. It was nice but Oikawa didn't feel anything fancy from looking at it. Her work wasn't inspired by anything past a cloth painting of a tiger my dad owns.  
> * Miss Reader's and the nameless ex's classmate who painted the scenery image resembled something painted by Claude Monet. Something calming but simple. I guess?  
> * Miss Reader herself often works with the language of flowers in an abstract way, which is what caught Oikawa's interest. Think of something somewhat like Salvador Dali's works. It's nothing as grand as Dali's symbolism but the abstract form is similar and it always goes back to flowers and their hidden meanings. A bit like how he often used melting clocks. Instead, she likes to use floral symbolism.  
> * The title is a reference to the western flower language with it being from Oikawa's perspective.
> 
> I think it's not exactly worth mentioning but ... I don't exactly condone the behavior I wrote in this story. It's purely fiction and it's meant to be left as such. Regardless, I hope you enjoyed it. C': I'm going to take a break from writing long stories (I may finish what I've already started though!) for the rest of the summer so I can spend more time doing other stuff before college starts back up!


End file.
